


Lost

by glyphsbowtie



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Bickering, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 07:59:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17138003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glyphsbowtie/pseuds/glyphsbowtie
Summary: Geralt and Yennefer are lost in the snow. Yen blames Geralt.





	Lost

**Author's Note:**

> For the Witcher Secret Santa.

“Are you unhappy with me?”

Yennefer doesn’t reply, tossing her dark curls and keeping her face on the road, her posture stiff and erect on the horse. The heavy snow has fringed her in white, giving her a glacial, frosty look which isn’t too inappropriate, really.

Not that Geralt would dare say that.

“Come on,” he tries again, reaching over to nudge her boot with his own, “it’s sort of romantic, isn’t it?”

She  _ does _ turn those violet eyes on him then, and they flash furiously. “Oh yes, Geralt, being lost in the middle of a snowstorm is romantic. I, personally, can’t wait for the part where we  _ freeze to death _ and they find our bodies in a month’s time, still preserved with the incredibly romantic expressions on our faces.”

Geralt tries hard not to laugh. “We’re not going to freeze, Yen. You’re a sorceress. I can conjure fire. We’ll be fine.”

She bares her teeth at him. “I’ll  _ conjure fire _ in a second, you oaf.”

Geralt knows better than to respond, and he turns his own eyes to the horizon. He can see a small building in the distance, and he points at it.

“There,” he says, “we should head there.”

“Smashing idea. Let’s break into a stranger’s house-”

“Yen,” he says, and the word is firm.

They make the ride over in silence. Geralt loves Yen, he really does, but sometimes she is a very difficult woman. Most of the time, in fact. Almost exclusively.

He tries not to smirk.

The house is run down and abandoned (“So you won’t get to murder any innocents today, Geralt, such a pity.”) with a few holes in the exterior, but it’s still far warmer than being exposed. They head inside and get a fire going.

Geralt watches as Yennefer warms her hands over the flames, her long hair wet as the snow melts in it. She’s so beautiful, his Yen, all sharp, proud features and harsh edges. But he likes her most at moments like this, when she isn’t perfect, when she’s soggy and dishevelled.

“You okay?” he asks her.

She looks up at him, and her mouth snaps open, but she catches herself and smiles softly. “Yes, I’m fine, Geralt,” she replies, in a tone as close to  _ gentle _ as Yen ever comes.

He sits down beside her, bolstered by the tone, and wraps his arm around her, drawing her close. She’s cold and wet against him, and she pushes hard into his side, soaking through his own clothes. But he lets her, because he’d let Yen do  _ anything. _

“I love you,” he tells her.

She snorts, a most inelegant noise. “Even though I’m vile to you?”

He grins, reaching beneath her chin to tip her lovely face up to his, and brushes his cold nose across the tip of hers. “You admit you’re vile to me?”

“Unspeakably so,” she whispers.

Their mouths meet in a burning, deep kiss that leaves them both breathless. He’ll never tire of this, never get bored of the way she makes him feel.

“I love you, too,” she breathes into his mouth.

And they sit together, soaked and freezing, grinning at each other.


End file.
